


Separate's Always Better When There's Feelings Involved

by Liberte_Egalite_Broadway



Category: Alice Isn't Dead (Podcast)
Genre: Blink and you miss it reference to Thistle, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Let's give them a break, Light Angst, Road Trips, Romantic Fluff, These two have it really rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway/pseuds/Liberte_Egalite_Broadway
Summary: Alice approaches her wife, arm outstretched, a bottle of Sunny D between her fingers like an olive branch. "This is your favorite, right?" she says. As if she doesn't already know.





	Separate's Always Better When There's Feelings Involved

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a part of WLW week, a collection I created about WLW in fiction podcasts! I'll be posting every day of the week, but other people are welcome to join me on this journey and add your works to the collection! 
> 
> Yes the title is from Hey Ya! so? Hey Ya! is an amazing song my dudes appreciate the art.

They're in a gas station near Eastern West Virginia. Eastern West Virginia is a funny phrase, a juxtaposition. Alice has always liked those. 

They're in a gas station near Eastern West Virginia, and  _Hey Ya!_ is playing on the loudspeaker. The floor is linoleum and the lights are fluorescent. Stubby aisles about the height of her collarbone run parallel to the wall with the door, laded with colorful plastic bags of artificially flavored food. Chips that taste like chicken and waffles. Crackers that taste like rolled up pizza. Candy that tastes like fruit. If she picked one of these bags, opened it, and ate the contents, it would taste not exactly like the thing it pretended to be, but close enough to keep her satisfied and to temporarily sate her hunger. One time, long ago, they went on a road trip together and ate a feast of gas station snacks. 

Right now Alice is alone in the store. The cashier is in the parking lot. Keisha is in the bathroom. 

 _My baby don't mess around, because she loves me so and this I know for sho..._ drones the voice of OutKast over the tinny loudspeaker. 

Alice considers the aisles, and she considers the coolers on the perpendicular wall. Her eyes fall on a row inside the cooler. It is lined with clear plastic bottles, that through their translucence, show a neon orange liquid. Sunny D.  _"Why do you drink that stuff?"_ asks the voice of a past her, in her memory.  _"It's not even real oranges, just a bunch of food dye! Like drinking paint."_

 _"Maybe, but it is the best-tasting paint there is,"_ Keisa had replied. Alice examines the logo now. It is orange, almost the orange of Thistle's hats, but not quite.

She hears the bathroom door open. Keisha comes out, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Out of paper towels," she says with her nose wrinkled. "God, I forgot how much I hate gas station bathrooms." And she stalks right past Alice, seeming to pass right through Alice, with the determined annoyance that only someone shopping in a convenience store can display.

Alice watches as her wife rifles through the bags on the aisles. The plastic rustles. Alice goes to the cooler and opens it, facing away from Keisha now. Their silence is like a waterlogged blanket. 

_You think you got it, oh you think you got it, but got it just don't get it-_

"I love this song," says Keisha, and her voice sounds too loud and artificial. Keisha hates  _Hey Ya!._  

"It's good," says Alice. 

Alice goes back to surveying the cooler. Cheap bottles of juice and cheap cans of soda line the shelves above cartons of bad half-and-half and a few dignified, if slightly frozen, Starbucks brand espressos. All of these drinks, with sugar and soda and food dye that is basically paint, are brightly colored. On an impulse, Alice opens the cooler. She removes a bottle. She carries it over to Keisha, feeling the condensation cold against her fingertips. She says, "Hey." Keisha turns around. Alice approaches her wife, arm outstretched, a bottle of Sunny D between her fingers like an olive branch. "This is your favorite, right?" she says. As if she doesn't already know. 

Keisha looks at her. Looks at the Sunny D. A soft smile cracks over her face. "You remembered." She takes it and tucks it into the crook of her elbow between a carton of crackers and a Pringles tin. Her smile lingers, and when they finish paying and Keisha opens the bottle right in the middle of the store, the smile grows. She takes a sip and sighs, smacking her lips. "That's amazing," she says. 

"You have a nice day now," mumbles the cashier. 

Keisha lifts the bottle towards him like a salute. "You too. You too. Alice, want to try some?"

"I don't drink paint, chipmunk."

"You don't understand the magic of Sunny D." 

"In that case, let's buy you another bottle."

They buy her two more bottles. Then they go out to the car, Alice holding their shopping bag and Keisha holding her Sunny D. The artificial coolness and colors of the store fade behind them, intermingled with the strains of _Hey Ya!_. 

_You know what to do, oh you know what to do_

_You know what to do._  

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this fic! I've been wanting to write an AID fic for so long and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> If you like fiction podcasts, if you are a wlw or an ally, if you want to support this project of mine, consider adding to this collection! Raising awareness for queer women in podcasts is important to me (since I am myself a queer female podcaster). So if it's something you want to help out with, feel free to share a story!
> 
> And as always, please leave a comment or kudos. You guys keep me going.


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